


It seems easier to just swim down...

by StormysHealthyCopingMechanisms



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I damage the ones I love, I mean you Keith, M/M, Oneshot, Will nobody comfort my innocent angst bomb?, hurt!keith, i'm still upset about S3, klance, not really conclusive soz, post-S3 but probably not canon compliant, secretMom!Lance, sick!fic, what is WRONG with me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormysHealthyCopingMechanisms/pseuds/StormysHealthyCopingMechanisms
Summary: Being part-Galra doesn't have many perks, but Lance discovers it has an unholy raft of disadvantages when Keith contracts a Galra illness and Lance is the only one emotionally capable of taking care of him.A sick!fic.One plot. One trope. Repeated endlessly too many times. And a fairly inconclusive ending. I wrote it because honestly everyone just ought to be wrapping Keith in bubble wrap and protecting him from the cruel world. Including me.





	It seems easier to just swim down...

Hunk skipped the niceties of knocking on Lance’s door (not that he was likely to hear him over the music) and the first warning Lance got of his presence was his sudden arrival on the bed.

Lance may or may not have shrieked and nearly fallen out of bed. The headphones half slipped off, but Lance still couldn’t understand his friend’s excited garble.

‘Hunk!? It’s like, 2am, what the hell?’ Lance pulled off the headphones and made a timeout gesture with his hands.

Sprawled across the mattress and crushing Lance’s legs, Hunk blushed and gradually went quiet, humming with nervous energy.

‘What?’ Lance repeated irritably.

‘It’s…’ Hunk scratched the back of his neck. ‘It’s Keith.’

Lance frowned automatically. ‘What? What about him?’ It was night time. Time to ignore the fact he’s stuck in space with _el culo rojo_.

‘I think he’s sick.’ Hunk continued awkwardly.

‘Of course he is.’ Lance sighed, trying and failing to tip Hunk off his legs. ‘He’s very sick. We knew that already.’

‘I mean he’s _sick_ , Lance.’ Hunk fidgeted, ignoring Lance’s squirming. ‘He’s like, throwing up.’ He cringed at the very thought.

‘How’d you know?’ Lance grimaced.

‘I can hear him through the wall.’ Hunk explained, and Lance scrunched his face up in horror.

‘Gross.’

Hunk gestured wildly. ‘Yes, and he’s been throwing up for like, a varga.’

‘What do you want me to do? This bed isn’t big enough for both of us.’ Lance poked the mattress emphatically. The Castle had spare rooms. Hunk could relocate for the night… to somewhere other than Lance’s carefully managed bubble of beauty sleep.

‘I want you to go see if he’s okay.’ Hunk answered, wielding his best puppy-dog eyes. Lance started shaking his head before Hunk even finished talking.

‘No. Hell no. Not if you paid me. Not for anything.’

‘But Lance…’

‘Why don’t you do it?’ Lance shoved Hunk with more force, realising he wasn’t going to get rid of him any time soon.

‘Because-’ Hunk lowered his voice secretively. ‘Keith’s kinda… scary. Especially since he turned like, Galra.’

‘He didn’t turn-’ Lance threw his hands up and lamented his choice of best friend. ‘You can’t seriously be scared of _Keith_!? Why don’t you get Shiro?’

Hunk scoffed ‘I don’t want Shiro to think I’m scared of Keith.’

‘But you are scared of-’ Lance groaned dramatically and pushed him. ‘Fine. At the very least, I can… I don’t know. Make fun of his hair.’

 

Keith’s quarters were just beyond Hunk’s. Lance couldn’t hear anything from the corridor, so hopefully Hunk was just having weird post-flight nightmares about puking again.

He thumped on Keith’s door loudly, and shouted ‘Keith? You awake?’

There was no answer, and Lance turned to go, shrugging at Hunk.

To his dismay, Hunk dodged past and tapped at the keypad until the door slid open. Lance facepalmed. For a paranoid, highly strung kind of guy, Keith didn’t pay much attention to bedroom privacy.

Hunk mouthed ‘Go on.’ and pushed Lance across the threshold with a gentle shove.

Lance gritted his teeth, snaking a cautious glance across the dark room at the bunk. At least he hadn’t randomly wandered into Keith’s room while he was sleeping. The blanket was stripped off and lying in a small pile on the floor.

Lance edged inwards, curious in spite of himself. He couldn’t hear anything, which could mean Keith was doing bouts on the training deck at night again (Allura had stopped him last time, supposedly because he needed to be well-rested for potential attacks, but probably because it unnerved everybody else and worried Shiro). His boots were against the wall, though, and his jacket and belt were hung up. The door to the bathroom (the weird Altean bathrooms everyone was sort of unwilling to acknowledge) was closed. Lance crept over and knocked, glancing back at Hunk with an accusing look. Still hovering just outside the doorframe, Hunk motioned him onwards.

There was no distinct answer from inside, but there was… noise. Rustling and groaning. Lance cringed reluctantly.

‘Keith? Is everything…’ He rolled his eyes. ‘… ah… okay?’

Something suspiciously like a “No!” came muffled through the door.

‘I’m…’ Lance swallowed. ‘Coming in.’

He hit the keypad with his shoulders squared like he was going into a fight. The door slid open on the pale, sparsely decorated room. Keith was on the floor, curled up at the base of what Lance had come to roughly equate to a toilet, both arms across his stomach.

Wholly unexpected alarm pierced Lance’s chest like a knife at the sight of him. Hunk hadn’t been exaggerating, he looked like he’d been through the wringer. Lance scrambled forwards and dropped to his knees.

He rolled Keith over and onto his lap to get him off the floor. ‘Shit, Red.’

Keith smelled like puke and sweat. His skin was ashen but damp, hair sticking to his forehead and neck, and his heart racing at rabbit-speed, obvious through the worn fabric of his shirt. ‘Hunk, get Coran!’

‘No m’fine.’ Keith ground out through clenched teeth. Lance tipped his face to the light with one hand, uneasily noting his bloodshot eyes and blue-purple lips.

Hunk materialised in the doorway and squeaked. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know!’ Lance shot him an incredulous look. ‘Get -’

’S’just a bug…’ Keith protested feebly.

‘- Coran! Shiro! Anyone!’ Lance glared at Keith’s hazy scowl as Hunk disappeared. ‘You look awful.’

He was struck by the memory of breakfast that morning (yesterday morning, now) when he’d arrived at the table and sat down opposite Keith.

‘You look like shit.’

‘Piss off, Lance.’

‘That’s enough, you two.’ Shiro had weighed in, cutting them both off, but Lance had seen the concerned look he’d shot at Keith. Lance _hadn’t_ just been being a jerk. Keith had been paler than usual, darker shadows under his eyes, run down. But everyone had bouts of sleeplessness during their pursuit of Lotor, and even Shiro respected Keith’s decision to deal with it alone. It had been a busy day, and Lance had forgotten about it.

Presently, Keith responded to the comment by attempting to slide from Lance’s grip, features tightening. Lance helped lever him into a sitting position, correctly interpreting his distress in time to have him retching over the toilet (???) bowl.

It sounded like he’d already emptied his stomach (and Lance didn’t remember him eating that much at dinner). It sounded painful, though, every effort wracking Keith’s body to the point where Lance was wincing sympathetically.

It was reflex which prompted him to brace Keith with an arm, and pluck his hair off his forehead and out of his face. Lance had been through numerous sibling sicknesses and episodes of gastro, and Keith was… unnervingly vulnerable in his current state.

The bout subsided unusually quickly, and Keith fell back on Lance’s arm, trembling. He switched his grip, leaning Keith’s shoulder to his chest and rubbing his back soothingly.

Keith took a couple of shuddering breaths.

‘Go.’ He said grimly. ‘You’ll catch it.’

Lance rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Not at all melodramatic, or anything.

‘We’re probably all going to get it anyway.’ Lance corrected him. ‘Besides, I probably have a higher threshold for-’

Shiro charged into the room, looking distractingly dishevelled. ‘Keith? What is it?’

’S’just a bug.’ Keith repeated miserably, trying to peel himself out of Lance’s grip.

‘Gastro.’ Lance contributed helpfully.

Coran was the next to appear, practically elbowing Shiro away from Keith in order to get a good look at him. Finally, Allura, followed by a beet red and panting Hunk. Lance could hear Pidge talking from the corridor, apparently unconvinced that there was any good reason to enter a teenage boy’s bathroom in the middle of the night.

Lance shrugged Keith into a better position against his chest as Coran examined him with characteristic fascination, and tried to help Hunk field Allura’s annoyed questions about “Why they’d only just been informed.”

Shiro’s expression betrayed the most anxiety, and it troubled Lance that he was already so worried about something as common as a stomach bug.

Admittedly, it generally took more than a sane amount of damage to put Keith out of commission. As much as it frustrated him, Lance was familiar with the extent of Keith’s endurance, and his current state was jarringly at odds with that familiarity.

It didn’t help when Coran’s face fell into a concerned frown, and Shiro started peppering him with questions. Was he alright? Was it a bug? Where’d he get it? Was it going to pass? How soon?

Coran’s silence in response to every successive question only served to increase Shiro’s desperation and heighten Lance’s uneasiness. Worse, Keith hadn’t stopped trembling, and Lance could feel it through his breastbone and the arm he had round Keith’s ribs.

Coran furrowed his brows in concentration and announced ‘This doesn’t look good.’

Lance’s grip tightened involuntarily.

‘It’s… just a bug.’ Keith added, with the type of mechanical resignation reserved for those who’d already lost the argument. Lance thought Coran was confirming the obvious. Keith’s not _just_ sick.

Shiro’s concern had escalated to confused anger. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’

‘I have seen these symptoms before.’ Coran continued thoughtfully.

‘Gastro.’ Hunk added from the dark of the bedroom.

‘What’s happening? Wait- I don’t want to know.’ Pidge’s voice drifted in from a distance.

Coran lifted Keith’s chin, and Lance felt him tense like a cat.

‘Not a human illness.’ Coran hesitated, and Allura snapped impatiently ‘What do we do to _help_ him, Coran?’

‘We should move him to the infirmary for proper analysis-’ Coran began decisively.

‘Is it serious?’ Shiro’s tone defied all evasions. Lance shivered, hoping he never had cause to be on Shiro’s bad side.

‘Potentially very serious…’ Coran admitted uneasily. ‘It’s possible Keith has contracted a parasite endemic to the Galra. One which his human biology is… inadequately prepared to combat.’

Shiro’s face went from worried to completely impassive in barely a tick. ‘Alright. We move him.’

‘No.’ Keith cut in with an even harsher tone. ‘I’m- Out. Get out.’

Multiple people start to argue, but Lance felt the trembling ebb away as Keith tensed.

‘Think you should go guys. Seriously. Go. Now. If you value your… appetites.’

Confusion gave way to alarm on three faces. Hunk had already vanished. Coran pulled a device from wherever on his person he normally carried these things and took one of Keith’s hands quickly.

‘I’ll do some tests.’ He offered in an attempt to be reassuring, jabbed him with a needle, and beat a hasty retreat as Keith’s expression threatened violence. Violence and… vomit.

Shiro closed the door behind himself, leaving Lance and Keith alone again as the latter started to throw up. It was still horrific. He was barely getting anything, not even liquid, but the sheer exertion was making his eyes water and purple-red dots blossom across his face. Lance didn’t need to wonder why he was still stuck here. Keith couldn’t hold himself up. He could barely breathe through the worst of it.

Keith didn’t have the same insightful awareness. When he slumped back from the toilet (?!?) again, he grumbled a complaint about Lance not leaving him alone.

‘Hah.’ Lance snapped humourlessly. ‘Someone has to be here in case you throw up your spleen, you know. And besides, would you rather someone who actually liked you see this?’

It was kind of mean, even to Lance’s ears, but it subdued Keith’s grumbling for a little while.

‘D’you even know what a spleen is?’ He shot Lance a baleful look.

‘Uh… No.’ Lance frowned. ‘Do you?’

Keith’s answer was an irritated and very watery glare. ‘No…’

‘Hah.’

They both heard the bedroom door open, and the sound of arguing voices. Keith straightened momentarily before giving up the pretence and sagging back down.

Someone knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer. Coran was the one talking. Allura was interrogating him. Shiro was stone-faced. He knelt in front of Keith immediately, grasping his hands to suppress the return of the trembling.

’Probl’m?’

‘We’ve got options.’ Shiro answered softly. ‘But we have to move fast.’ Lance felt as though he was invading the privacy of their moment, but he couldn’t really move. He stared hard at Coran and Allura instead and pretended he was following their conversation.

‘Princess, Ascleple potions may very well be vital- but we won’t be sure without confirmation from a Galra- ’ Coran was insisting.

Allura shook her head and interrupted. ‘Trying to find Kolivan and the rest of the Blade of Marmora while they’re on mission will be too time consuming… and could be little more than a wild Weblum chase.’

‘We may have the best intentions and the best potions, but there’s no certainty they’ll work.’ Coran reasoned. ‘At least trying to find someone better versed in Galra medicine-‘

‘We do both.’ Shiro instructed, smoothly straightening up. ‘Coran and Pidge will find the Ascleple, Hunk and I will search for Kolivan.’

A few quizzical looks were exchanged. With Keith out of commission, they may not be able to pilot the Black Lion at all, and without Lance and Allura they didn’t have Red or Blue.

Lance felt his mouth drop open. And he was supposed to do what? Babysitting duty? Just because Hunk conned him into checking up on Red?

He was about to protest (with great volume) when Keith lifted both arms to his face and started coughing. The irritation (jealousy… fear of missing out… whatever it was) dissipated immediately. He wrapped his arms round Keith’s chest, trying to stop him hurting himself.

Shiro touched Keith’s forehead and squeezed Lance’s shoulder and directed everyone else out of the room.

‘Wait-’ Keith tried to swallow and seemed to regret it. Shiro hesitated, glancing back. ‘How long…?’

Shiro looked at him with enough aching compassion that Lance’s eyes started to water sympathetically. ‘Maybe… at a guess… six vargas.’

Lance wondered if Keith noticed the way he flinched. The Red Paladin himself barely reacted, but his shaking continued unabated.

 

 

 

Six vargas didn’t give the others a lot of time. Lance couldn’t help but wish he was out there too, helping them search. Even the hideous time pressure was more appealing than watching Keith suffer. Sure, Lance didn’t have a lot of time for his arrogant, self-absorbed, anti-social ass of a teammate (and… leader?)… but he didn’t wish actual harm on him. Much.

Not like this, anyway.

Keith kept up alternating bouts of coughing and attempted vomiting. When Lance discovered that there were flecks of blood dappling his forearms and the toilet (?) bowl and the floor, he panicked.

‘Why can’t we just put him in the healing pod?’ He’d shrieked at Allura when she’d come in to check on them and bring food for Keith (he refused to touch it). ‘It worked for me, why not him?’

‘It won’t work.’ She told him crisply. ‘We discussed it.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Lance-’ Keith mumbled. Lance helped him sit up again, attention still diverted.

‘The pod would preserve the parasite as much as Keith, if not more.’ Allura explained smoothly.

‘Why can’t we use it to delay the… thingy?’ Lance asked desperately, folding his hand under Keith’s hair to brace his neck.

‘Coran believes the parasite will weaken him. Lowering his body temperature and making him inactive would potentially make him deteriorate… faster.’

Lance had groaned, but given up, for the moment.

After maybe half a varga, Keith seemed to reach a reprieve. He slid in increments down Lance’s chest and ended up lying half-over his legs, head pillowed on one of Lance’s thighs, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked like he was in shock. His eye sockets were bruised, face a disturbing white and red polka dot canvas. He was badly congested, and when he could breathe, he had to breathe through his mouth. Lance wiped his face with a wet towel and tried to convince him to drink some water, but he kept turning his head away.

When he’d been settled for long enough, Lance suggested Keith move to his bed. He didn’t have the energy to actually stand or walk, but he assented willingly. There was chill sitting in his skin, and Allura’s comment about low body temperature had Lance spooked. He half carried Keith back to his bunk, and draped the blanket over him. He ducked out and brought more blankets back. Normally the atmosphere control in their rooms compensated for any lack of body heat, but this morning it clearly wasn’t doing enough. Keith curled up in the foetal position, shivering, and accepted the attention with a kind of morose reluctance.

‘D’you think you can eat anything?’ Lance asked gently, provoking a revolted shudder. ‘Okay. No. Fine. Water?’

Keith buried his face in the pillow and groaned quietly.

‘No? No. Right. Of course.’

He kept brushing his fingers through Keith’s hair, more to reassure himself than comfort Keith (who probably thought it was an incredibly offensive invasion of space).

Allura came in bearing hot food which made Keith roll face down into the mattress as if he was afraid he’d inhale it somehow.

‘He’s still cold.’ She remarked anxiously, trailing her fingers across the back of his neck.

Lance nodded, and tried to resist the urge to bite his fingernails. ‘Can’t seem to shake it.’

‘We’ll move him to my chamber.’ Allura instructed promptly. Lance’s eyebrows shot so high he thought they might fly off his forehead. She sighed impatiently. ‘It’ll be warmer in there.’

Between the two of them (Allura being… unnervingly strong) they managed to carry Keith and his blankets down the corridors of the Castle with minimal complaining (probably because Keith was too exhausted to speak).

They were only a few hundred metres away when he started struggling.

‘Keith- Hey- Hey, buddy, stop-’ Lance felt his grip slipping, but Allura copped an elbow to the stomach and dropped him rather unceremoniously in surprise.

‘Oof- Quiznak!’ She gasped, horrified as Keith landed on one shoulder. He curled up instantly, and Lance crouched over him. ‘Is he okay?’

Keith had progressed from shivering to full on convulsions. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

‘Red?’ Lance grabbed his shoulders, tried to hold him still. ’Keith? What’s happening?’ He glanced up at Allura, unable to hide his desperation.

‘Let’s get him inside.’ Allura said quickly, helping him pick Keith up again. He twisted and jerked around, but they made sure they had a good grip before hefting him off the ground.

They deposited him on the bed, and Lance struggled to keep his cool. ‘Is he having a seizure? What do we do?’

‘I’ll try and contact Coran-‘ Allura left Lance to pull blankets up to Keith’s waist and sit next to him, trying to soothe the tension out of his arms.

When the spasms finally stopped, Keith prised open red eyes and grimaced at Lance weakly.

‘What is it?’ Lance pushed the hair off Keith’s forehead, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘What’s wrong?’

’S’pain.’ He huffed. ’Stom’ch. Head. Hurts.’

‘We’ll find painkillers. We’ll find something.’

Keith tucked himself into a ball, emitting a soft whine. ‘Hurts.’

Lance had never heard anything like that noise coming from Keith. He hissed involuntarily, moved closer on the bed. He even picked up Keith’s hand and crushed it between both of his own.

The whine broke into a whimper. Keith started to twist, tangling his legs in the blankets, knocking aside the pillows. Lance had a good hold on one of his hands, but the way he started thrashing around, he was frightened Keith was going to dislocate his shoulder, strangle himself in the blankets… hit his head… break _something_ …

Allura came back and discarded the food and water she was carrying in order to help Lance hold him down. It wasn’t much use. Keith was writhing, whimpering and mumbling nonsense, out of pain rather than in a seizure.

Lance kept repeating Keith’s name, pointlessly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Between him and Allura they could pin Keith to the mattress, stop him squirming, but he just started to scream without another way to manage the pain.

‘Can’t we do anything?’ Lance asked breathlessly, noting Allura’s determined expression.

‘Coran suggested we heat him up as much as possible.’ She shifted her weight onto Keith’s hip. ‘Maybe we can slow down the deterioration… or at least ease his discomfort.’

‘Why didn’t Coran say that before he left?’ Lance snapped, nervousness sparking his aggression.

‘Lance…’ Allura couldn’t free her hands, but Lance could feel her resting a soothing gaze on the side of his face. ‘He’s not certain it will work. I said we were willing to try anything.’

Lance drew a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Sorry. The blankets aren’t working.’

‘We should try putting him in a bath.’ Allura suggested. Lance clenched his jaw as Keith yelped again.

‘Worth a shot.’

 

 

 

They weren’t prepared to move him until he was calm, for fear of dropping or even drowning him, but whatever was happening to Keith persisted for so long Lance could feel his arms cramping up. His vision had gone blurry a while ago, and he was trying pretty hard not to cry in front of Allura. _Jesus_. He’d never felt more for Keith than he did right now. This _thing_ … whatever it was… it was torturing him.

Allura asked him to take over eventually, leaving Lance to sit on Keith as she went to find some kind of Altean liquor she thought might ease Keith’s pain.

She was gone for a while. Lance couldn’t tell how long. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been here, either, but it felt like a week. It was only starting to stop by the time she came back, and Lance still had to keep Keith mostly squashed to stop him flinging his limbs around. He’d managed to get his eyes open a couple of times, but he didn’t seem properly aware of where he was or what he was looking at. He whimpered a few words, some in Japanese, and Lance hazarded a guess at their meaning. Allura found him wiping tears off his face.

‘What’s wrong? Is he worse?’ She laid a hand on Lance’s arm, and he tried not to burst into ugly sobbing.

‘No he’s… improving… I think he’s delirious, though.’

‘Keith?’ Allura moved her hand to hold his chin gently, and Keith twisted, straining his neck to free himself. He couldn’t help it, Lance thought, he was just trying to get away from the pain. ‘Can you tell us where it hurts?’

‘ ’vrywhere… stoma- make it… stop…’ He babbled into incoherence, and Lance shifted to suppress another fit of thrashing.

‘Keith? Keith?’ She wasn’t going to get any more sense out of him until it subsided.

‘Princess… Maybe we should try the bath while we still can…’

Allura swallowed, but after a pause she nodded. ‘Are you alright? I’ll go and prepare it.’

When Keith finally settled, he turned huge, anguished eyes on Lance. ‘L’nce? W’s’mom…? ’n dad…?’

Lance shook his head. ’I’m sorry.’ He lifted his weight off Keith’s arms, folding his hands around Keith’s cold white fingers. ‘They’re not here.’

’No…’ Keith was slurry, still barely conscious. ‘I… saw ‘em.’ He made a futile and frankly pathetic attempt to sit up, only succeeding in craning his head about an inch.

‘I know, buddy.’ Lance squeezed his hands, climbed off the side of the bed and stretched his aching muscles. ‘But right now, we gotta get you moving.’

‘L’nce…’

‘C’mon, Red. C’mon.’ Lance pulled Keith’s legs over and hauled him into a sitting position (Keith was entirely unable to help). He pressed the palm of his hand to Keith’s stomach instinctively, feeling his skin steal Lance’s warmth through the damp shirt. ’Is your stomach still hurting?’

Keith mumbled ‘Mmnh…’

‘Okay. Well, sorry in advance, if this hurts.’ He tucked his head against Keith’s ribs and folded him over a shoulder, using the top of the bed to force himself upright again and groaning from the effort.

Keith was no goddamn featherweight. Lance managed to get him into the bathroom, but Allura’s bathtub (royal-sized) was wafting thick clouds of steam through the room, and Lance peered at it with considerable concern.

Allura reached for Keith, obviously intending to put him straight in the bath, and Lance shied away. ‘How hot is that?’

‘As hot as possible.’ Allura said reassuringly, gesturing.

‘Hot enough to melt him?’ Lance asked dryly, shifting Keith’s weight. He grunted softly in response, and Allura made grabby hands again.

‘Alright, put him down…’ She helped him lower Keith to the floor. ‘I tested the water, it’s fine.’

‘Fine for humans?’ Lance repeated emphatically. Allura hesitated. ‘It looks like it’s… boiling.’

‘Hm. Perhaps I’ll add in some cold.’

Lance still wasn’t entirely sure about Allura’s operation of the bath, so he pulled off his robe and toed the water himself. It was _really_ hot. Like, on the verge of white-hot. Still, as long as it didn’t actively harm Keith, a little discomfort could be tolerated for a lot of warmth.

Allura gave him a rather appreciative look, and he blushed. ‘That’s a good idea, Lance. If you can monitor the water temperature we can make sure it stays as hot as possible.’

He frowned at that. Sharing a tub with Keith wasn’t his idea of a relaxing bath, but… responsibility demands sacrifice? Someone… said that.

He climbed into the water, hissing as it scorched his legs, and Allura lifted Keith onto the edge of the bathtub. He was mumbling, but his eyes were closed. Lance hooked his arms under Keith’s shoulders and gradually lowered him into the water, listening for the telltale gasp as the heat hit his skin. At least Keith didn’t lash out this time. Lance sank down next to him, holding his head up and prodding his chest underwater. The room was still hazy, and every breath sent clouds of steam spinning and rolling around the three of them. Allura was leaning over the edge of the tub, hands clutching the smooth Altean stone.

‘Is it working?’ She asked anxiously. ‘Wait- No, give it time.’

Lance wished he’d checked Keith’s pockets. He hoped there wasn’t anything important in there. Or anything papery. Or any tech… Whoops. The water soaking through his cargo pants weighed his legs down, but his chest rose and fell as he breathed, the hem of his shirt floating up across his ribs. Lance swallowed and tried to concentrate.

‘Keith?’ Lance lifted his jaw with a hand, holding his nose and mouth above water and tipping his scalp back. The bubbles and steam smelled nice, which made an extremely pleasant change from the last… however long it had been of blood and sweat and puke. Keith opened his eyes and looked, unfocused, at Lance’s neck.

‘How much… how much time do we have?’ Lance asked, brushing Keith’s hair through the water with a grimace.

‘It’s been just over three vargas, Lance.’ Allura hesitated. ‘I’m sure the others are on their way back.’

Lance nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m sure.’

‘Are you okay with Keith? I’ll see if I can contact the Green and Yellow Lions.’

Lance nodded again and watched her leave the room.

 

 

 

‘Lance…’

‘Hey buddy.’

Lance had been using his hand to drip water on Keith’s face for the past few dobashes, trying to help clean his skin without actually scrubbing his face. Apparently he’d finally gotten sick of it, because he’d wrapped his fingers around Lance’s wrist.

‘How d’you feel?’

Keith exhaled with the most strength Lance had seen in at least half a varga. ‘Like shit.’

‘You look it.’ Lance responded, smiling. Keith straightened slightly, using his grip on Lance to sit up, and shivering instantly.

’S’cold…’

‘Yeah, that’s why you’re in here.’ Lance nudged him off gently, submerging him back up to his neck.

Keith glared at him cautiously. ‘Where are we? What the hell are you doing?’ He got tired in the middle of the complaint and most of his aggression faded off. Lance shook his head, feigning more amusement than he felt.

‘Allura’s bath.’ Lance winked. ‘She thought we could get away with drowning you while the others were gone.’

‘Right.’ Keith frowned. ‘You’re not drowning me properly.’

‘No. No, you’re not drowning properly.’ Lance scowled. ‘Hold your breath.’

Keith obeyed without questioning, and Lance dipped his head under the water and pulled him up, pushing his hair back.

‘I thought… Shiro was back.’ Keith said quietly, clumsily wiping water out of his eyes. ‘I saw him…’

‘You… might have imagined some things.’ Lance explained carefully. Keith tensed and diverted his gaze. Lance was pleased with the return of colour to his skin. Keith felt warm, and he was already stronger. The only concern was the heat fading out of the bath water. And possibly that Keith seemed upset about his delirious visions. Which was understandable, because they seemed… intense. First he’d rambled about Shiro, then his father, and even his mother when he’d been really out of it.

Being the one who had to tell him he’d dreamed it all kind of sucked.

Lance needed Allura to come back. Immediately.

‘It’s okay.’ Lance still had an arm under his neck. ‘You’re gonna be okay.’ He hated how fake that sounded.

Keith didn’t answer, but he splashed around slightly, obviously frustrated that he couldn’t leave the bath and get away from Lance.

Lance sighed. ‘I’m sorry. About… Shiro. Not being here. Or… you know. I’m sorry.’

‘Lance…’

‘I… I…’ Lance mumbled and stared at the bathroom wall. The steam was completely gone. The room was cold, and only his waist and legs underwater were still warm.

‘I’m fine. Forget it.’ Keith sat up again, hissed, and slumped back down.

Lance felt his eyebrows furrow instinctively. ‘You’re not fine. And you shouldn’t be. And that’s okay.’

‘Stop saying okay.’ Keith grumbled, flopping on one side in the water. Lance caught his shoulder and rolled him back over.

‘It’s… _okay_ that you’re not _okay_.’ Lance said emphatically, wondering to himself if he was trying to be supportive or a dick. ‘It’s okay that you want your family… to be here. Stop wriggling.’

Keith winced. ‘Can you not-’ He squirmed out of Lance’s grip. ‘I want to get out.’

‘Wait.’ Lance caught him again. ‘It’s warmer in here. Wait until Allura gets back.’

‘It’s cold, Lance.’ Keith practically hit him (it felt like a pixie punch). ‘Let go.’

His tone warned Lance that he was slipping away again. He still felt warm, but the parasite was weakening him from the inside, maybe enough to undermine the positive effects of the hot water.

‘Stay.’ Lance demanded sharply (more sharply than he meant to) and grabbed Keith’s arm. He hit the tap inscribed with the symbol for “warmth” and kicked open the drain, trying to balance the input of hot water with the outrush of lukewarm water. Keith fidgeted, sending ripples of hot water against Lance’s chest, but for the moment he followed Lance’s instructions.

’S’cold.’ Keith repeated sadly. Lance pulled his upper arms, dragging him closer to the hot tap.

‘C’mon. C’mon, Keith, stay with me.’

‘I’m right here.’ He mumbled.

‘Damn right. You better be. ‘Cos if Allura gets back here and you’re not awake she’s gonna be mad as… Well, she’s gonna be really mad. And then she’ll kick your ass. Not to mention what’s gonna happen when Shiro gets here. You better - hey, open your eyes.’ Keith was nodding off, a combination of heat and wooziness sapping his reclaimed energy. The water was starting to sting again, but Keith was shivering. It had worked. It had worked but they’d lost all the progress stupidly fast. Lance sank as low as possible into the water, propping the back of his head against the side of the tub and pinning Keith’s body under the hottest section with his limbs. Keith didn’t protest, letting his head loll against Lance’s shoulder. His breathing had gone choppy. His temple felt cold against Lance’s cheek.

‘I don’t…’ Keith murmured vacantly. ‘… have… a f-family…’

Lance caught his breath, just as Allura ran back into the room. ‘Coran and Pidge are a few dobashes away. They have the Ascleple.’

‘Thank god.’ Lance didn’t move, and Allura crouched by the edge of the bath.

‘How’s he doing?’

‘Got better, then worse.’ Lance muttered, mouth an inch from the surface of the water. ‘It’s not helping as much any more.’

Allura reached over the edge and laid the back of her hand against Keith’s forehead. He blinked at her with childlike confusion.

‘He’s cold.’ She observed nervously. ‘But they won’t be long now.’

‘Are you sure the plant-thing will work?’ Lance asked uneasily.

She bit a lip. ’It’s the best chance we have.’

‘That’s a no.’ Lance interjected sharply, resisting the urge to sit up and shout indignantly. ‘You don’t _know_ if it will work?’

‘Coran wasn’t sure. Like the parasite, the effects on mostly-human biology are… unrecorded.’

Lance tried to even out his breathing. ‘Princess…’

‘We don’t have a choice.’

Coran had mashed the Ascleple into a pulp during the journey back to the Castle, and it was a bowl of fibrous, unappetising tangerine coloured goop he and Pidge brought to the bathroom, both panting from the run.

Pidge scraped her gaze across Lance and Keith in the water, and Allura anxiously fidgeting in the wafting steam, and immediately stepped into the bathtub, suit and all.

‘How is he?’ She asked, looping a gloved hand under Keith’s neck and lifting him slightly off Lance’s shoulder so she could peer at his face. Coran copied her on Lance’s other side, holding the bowl like the Holy Grail.

‘Are we sure about this?’ He asked querulously, nodding at the goop. ‘This is a risky move.’

‘Do it.’ Lance said roughly. He could feel the tremble of Keith’s muscles everywhere he was touching him.

‘Yes.’ Allura said, voice pitched a little high.

Pidge nodded to Coran, and used her gloved fingers to pry open Keith’s jaw. It wasn’t easy. Even in his vaguely shellshocked, unresponsive state, Keith did not like the idea of food. Although, looking at what Coran was spooning into his mouth, Lance could sympathise.

They had to hold his head still to stop him spitting it out, and keep him there until he was forced to swallow. Lance hated every second of it, and he felt sure the others were just as uncomfortable as him.

They all awaited a reaction when he finally got it down, but instantaneous cure it was not. Coran started tapping the spoon against the side of the bowl compulsively, and Pidge just glared at Keith’s face like she could speed up the process if she concentrated hard enough.

The tap was still running, and the addition of Coran and Pidge to the space had unbalanced Lance’s careful orchestration of input-output. They were heading towards overflowing. Allura reached across him to turn it off, but that left the four - technically five, if they were counting dissociative fugue Keith - of them waiting in tense silence.

‘How’s he holding up?’ Pidge asked Lance, and Lance tried to shrug without accidentally submerging his head.

‘Seemed really painful.’ Lance admitted. ‘He’s been delirious. Freezing cold, too, and some… seizures? Or cramps, maybe.’

‘Hm.’ Coran remarked thoughtfully. ‘In a typical Galran host, the parasite attempts to weaken them in order to obtain a suitable environment to… er…’ He cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘… lay its eggs. Reducing appetite, attacking the immune system, initiating infection and inducing hypothermia are all common results. It would seem that the same process has taken place for Keith… just, accelerated.’

‘Is there a point of no return?’ Pidge asked, letting Keith’s head slip back against Lance’s chest gently.

‘In a sense.’ Coran frowned. ‘But it tends to be caused by additional infections shutting down vital organs. For Keith, I would need to conduct a proper examination to know how serious the situation has become.’

They weren’t going to move him, Lance realised. Coran didn’t want to know how bad it was until he knew the Ascleple wouldn’t work.

Ticks passed. Then dobashes. And Lance noticed no change. Allura had disappeared to check on Hunk and Shiro.

‘We should give him some more.’ Pidge said impatiently, splashing water over the edge of the bath with her nervous fidgeting.

Coran agreed, and they repeated the procedure. Keith was noticeably more resistant this time, and Lance let himself hope that he was getting stronger. Waking up.

Lance was within a dobash of suggesting they give him the whole damn bowl when a large figure in black and purple rounded the corner.

‘Kolivan!’ Coran straightened up quickly. ‘We-’

‘How much has he ingested?’ Kolivan interrupted, voice deep and thoroughly businesslike.

‘About a handful of leaves, pulped.’ Coran answered efficiently.

‘He will require more.’ Kolivan instructed briskly. ‘Galrans utilise a highly concentrated solution of Ascleple to eliminate Ephrathrites. At times an entire plant must be stripped to produce enough oil.’

Coran and Pidge followed his advice, forcibly feeding Keith the remaining contents of the bowl. Lance wasn’t sure how much they’d brought, how much they had, how much they needed. He just kept hanging on to Keith, kept watching Kolivan’s impassive features from his exposed position in the bath. Keith grunted and resisted, to no avail, and finally levelled a very watery, accusing glare at Pidge.

‘Don’t bitch.’ She responded automatically, and pushed his hair off his face with rare affection.

Shiro and Hunk had crashed into the room a little while after Kolivan, apparently unable to match his “urgent” speed. Shiro had hovered and muttered and watched the force-feeding with obvious distress.

‘Is there anything else we can do?’ He ventured after a bit, and Kolivan shook his head.

‘It was wise to keep him warm.’ He nodded with faint respect at Lance. It was purely because they’d had several missions together during Shiro’s absence that Lance recognised any emotion on his face at all. ‘You must now wait until the ‘thrite is dead.’

He stepped aside, as though he was turning to leave the room, and paused. ‘Allow me to reiterate my recommendation that the Red Paladin return to us when possible, to learn the ways of his Galran heritage.’

Lance saw Shiro’s features tighten, impulsively protective, but Kolivan was already gone.

 

 

 

Keith was stirring, slowly. He turned his head and groaned a few choice complaints about the taste of their wonder-potion.

Shiro and Hunk lifted him out of the bathtub when Coran decided he was strong enough, and returned him to Allura’s bed, as it was the nearest. Shiro insisted on making him eat a proper meal, despite Keith’s protests. His appetite hadn’t returned, but Coran suggested the more sustenance he consumed the faster he would recover. Lance watched him until he’d finished. Until he’d gone to sleep, proper sleep, not the barely conscious blankness from before. Then he went back to his own quarters to change and get some rest.

 

 

Lance heard the brisk rap at his door and called out. It was probably Hunk, come to say "I told you so".

It was Keith. A little less than fighting fit, by the look of him, but still much better.

'Hey man. How are you?' 

Lance pulled his jacket on absently, sizing up his teammate. Keith looked like he was wearing Altean clothes for once - unnaturally white and crisp. It made his hair and eyes look darker, and the bruised and strained skin of his face and neck look oddly sharp and delineated.

'Hm.' Keith shrugged, stepping inside with characteristic wariness and closing the door. 'I needed to thank you... For helping me.'

He sounded like he was at gunpoint, but Lance let it slide for once. 

'Hunk made me.' He shrugged back. 'If it weren't for him I'd have... Never realised.'

The harshness of the thought made him turn away suddenly, and pay unnecessarily close attention to shaking out the replacement robe Coran had given him.

Keith was silent, but he didn't leave. Lance felt his presence like an itch on the back of his neck.

'Are you- okay, though?' He forced out finally, genuinely curious. Knowing Keith, he was likely to deny any trauma, but... Since they'd lost Shiro and gone through Pilot Roulette, Lance had strongly suspected Keith was suppressing a hell of a lot more emotion than he expressed. Shiro's return, and the added pressure of being the leader without... actually being the leader... hadn't undone much of the damage, as far as Lance could tell. And now this.

'I'll live.' Keith said unenthusiastically. 

Lance sat on the edge of his bed, letting his gaze trail across to Keith, still hovering awkwardly near the door.

'You want to talk about it?' He offered helpfully, noting Keith's visible wince. 'You want to not talk about it?'

Keith edged forward painfully slowly, and finally sat down on the far end of the bed.

'You know how- you were talking about the lions? And you said there were too many pilots?'

'Ye- es.' Lance answered nervously. He hadn't enjoyed that conversation. Keith had been typically fixated on the mission, not Lance’s concerns about… belonging. Empathy wasn't Keith’s… strongest skill. 

'You ever-' Keith cut himself off suddenly, standing up. Lance mimicked him instinctively, so they were standing opposite each other once again. 'Never mind.'

'Spit it out, Red. Or... Boss. You know what I mean.'

‘You ever think about leaving?’

Lance didn’t know whether to bristle or cry. He had. Multiple times. Home. Family. Warmth and safety and comfort. But the idea of leaving was just as upsetting as the idea of… never getting to go back.

‘I… sure.’ Lance hesitated and tried not to pout.

‘I think… maybe… I should leave.’

Surprise made Lance’s mouth drop open. ‘You- wha-?’

‘I just…’ Keith rubbed the back of his neck. ‘… feel like I’m getting in the way.’

‘You’re our- you _led_ us!’ Lance gaped at him. ‘This mission is your… _life_.’

Keith sat back down gingerly, and stared at his hands. ‘I’m not a good leader, Lance. I’m not even a good teammate. All I do is make the wrong decisions, for everyone.’

‘You are _not_ leaving.’ Lance strode over and stood in front of him, perhaps to stop him from vanishing this very second.

‘Lance-’

‘You’re out of your quiznaking mind.’

‘Lance.’ Keith curled his hands into fists. ‘You said I wanted my family. And you were right. But they’re gone, and now all I’m doing is getting in Shiro’s way. Holding the team back. You can pilot the Red Lion now, and Allura can pilot Blue. If I leave, Shiro can get back to being the- your leader. And I can- find out where I come from.’

‘The Blade?’ Lance felt wonder creep into his voice despite himself, and then snapped out of it. ’No! No, you can’t leave. You belong with us! You belong with Voltron!’ He lifted Keith’s chin, unwittingly used to the familiarity of touching him.

Keith’s gaze flickered away and then returned with steady certainty.

‘I would never have been able to pilot the Black Lion without your help.’ Keith said, unexpectedly calm. ‘And… nobody’s taken care of me… like that… since Mom died. Not even Shiro. Not even Dad.’

Lance crouched, letting go of Keith’s chin and grabbing his hands. ‘Because we’re- Because- Keith.’ He cleared his throat and tried to think straight. ‘I know… it’s not the same thing. But we’re… kind of like family. We’re… a team.’

Keith smiled gently, and Lance felt his words catch in his throat. ‘- we can’t do this without you. I can’t do this without you.’

Keith actually rolled his eyes, and Lance felt as offended as he was afraid. Wasn’t getting rid of Keith an old dream of his? No. Beating him? Not even that. Just having him around long enough to… show him up. Show him… he was just as good. Watching him run because he felt… useless wasn’t what Lance wanted. And it was wrong.

Lance scowled at Keith’s frustratingly relaxed expression, and squeezed his hands. ‘I know- Ugh. This is stupid.’ He socked Keith in the shoulder lightly, just to show his irritation. ‘I know you feel like shit right now. And I get it. Everything right now… kind of sucks. Just. Please, for quiznak’s sake, just sleep on it. And don’t… don’t leave before you… don’t leave until you think about it. You know what? You have to stay here.’

Lance started shaking his head, and Keith snorted. ‘You’re overreacting.’

Lance couldn’t help but think Keith looked slightly pleased… or at the very least, amused. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight. You might be piloting the Black Lion, but you’re as unpredictable as ever. I’m… I’m gonna watch you. Until you feel better. Until you’ve slept, and you realise how crazy this idea is.’

Keith rolled his eyes again, still smiling. ‘You’re not watching me-’

‘Hah!’ Lance leapt off the bed and dashed for the control pad for his door. ‘Locking you in.’

‘What the quiznak-’ He heard Keith jump up after him. ‘Lance don’t you dare-’

Keith collided with his shoulder and they both crashed into the door. Lance yelped dramatically and squirmed around to try and catch Keith’s wrists. ‘Stop- ugh- stop! exerting! yourself!’

Play fighting easily gave way to sprawling, fatigued and careless, across Lance’s bed. Keith was significantly less disruptive than Hunk. He was much smaller, for starters, and he didn’t move much.He made a few derogatory comments about the moisturisers and cleansers lined up on Lance’s shelf, and halfway through a detailed description of their functions, Lance glanced across to find him dozing steadily. He was spread out against the wall, wiry and compact and indispensable, and Lance’s monologue trailed off into nothing.

He wouldn’t let Keith leave for anything, even if he had to lock him in rooms for the rest of their lives. He’d probably change his mind anyway, after a proper sleep, and they could both go back to despising each other tomorrow.

For now, Lance was content to stretch out next to him, pull the blanket over them both, and let the sound of Keith’s breathing lull him to sleep.


End file.
